


What if I chase you with a rolling pin?

by astrosaur



Category: Sexy Zone
Genre: M/M, domestic relationship insecurities, from fluff to schmoop to warm fuzzies in excess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 17:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12438330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrosaur/pseuds/astrosaur
Summary: Kento and Fuma are cautious about cohabiting and imposing their annoying habits on each other 24/7.





	What if I chase you with a rolling pin?

**Author's Note:**

> Title frankenstein-ed from Ingrid Michaelson's Giving Up

            Marius is half-listening to Shori and Sou’s chattering over a game that one lent the other when he lets his eyes sweep over to the kitchen. He spies Kento extending an arm to the side, wiggling his fingers impatiently in Fuma’s direction as he puts a dish onto the drying rack. Without so much as a glance, Fuma snaps, “I’m washing it properly!”

            “At least look at each other when you do that!” Marius says. “That’s just unnatural.”

            “But they’ve always been like that,” Sou pipes up, interrupting his own conversation with Shori. Because of course Sou, self-proclaimed FumaKen champion, knows what’s what.

            Kento ignores them, wiping his hands on the apron Shori lent him before fishing out the phone from his pocket. He dashes off to a quieter corner in Shori’s apartment, phone pressed to his ear.

            Marius’s eyes follow him with undue interest and asks, “Who’s he talking to?”

            His question is obviously addressed to Fuma, who then says he has no idea, applying the most irate inflection he can manage. “We don’t actually inhabit each other’s brains, no matter what you brats think.”

            Fuma is the only one not staring at the back of their leader’s head in bald curiosity. “Yeah, I’m staying over at his tonight. We’ve got that open house to go to in the morning,” they (deliberately) overhear Kento saying. “No, for the hundred thirty-sixth time, I’m just going along with him! I’d tell you in advance if I were moving out.”

            “Is that his mom?” Sou guesses.

            “His landlord, who happens to be worse than his parents,” Fuma says. “Not that I’d blame anyone for being desperate to foist a tenant like Nakajima onto other victims.”

            “How many open houses have you been to?” Shori asks. “It seems like that’s all you’ve been doing in your free time.”

            Fuma shrugs. “Way more than I wanted to. I almost want to extend my lease right now because everything I’ve seen so far is unlivable.”

            Even on the phone, Kento takes the time to roll his eyes for Fuma’s benefit to show his disagreement with that assessment.

            “Unlivable,” Fuma repeats in response to Kento’s nonverbal rebuttal. “And someone who’ll have to actually live in the apartment has more say than an irregular visitor.”

            Shori chuckles disbelievingly at the term Fuma chose to employ in lieu of “boyfriend”. Marius whines, “But why aren’t you moving in together?”

            “Impossible,” the couple in question says in unison as Kento ends his phone call.

            “Don’t joke about such a thing. As it is, he gets pissed off if I mess up the one section of his dresser that he says I can use exclusively,” Fuma says. “‘Move in together.’ Right. I’d have to memorize which glass or cup goes with which coaster.”

            Kento follows through with his own complaints. “I’d have to launch a full investigation every time because he never puts things back where they’re supposed to be. I’d have to pick up after him like I’m his actual mother.”

            “Don’t get me started on his idea of interior decoration. He basically wants to live in a place that looks like it’s housing all the stage costumes that the entire idol industry rejected for being too flashy.”

            Shori brings his hands up and waves them over his head, playing referee. “Alright, alright.” He’s learned his lesson on letting these two reach a six out of ten in their passion meter while in his apartment. A five out of ten is already flirting with danger. “Nobody here is giving anyone else any relationship advice,” he says while looking witheringly at Marius.

            Marius chooses not to heed Shori’s warning. “But the two of you will always be like this. What are you going to do, are you forever going to live apart from each other?” Kento pinches his side as punishment for his dramatic conclusion, making the taller boy flail.

            “That settles it, then.” Fuma nudges Kento’s shoulder with his, stealing his boyfriend’s attention away from their youngest. “It’s been fun. I’m glad I had you at your peak.”

            Kento is apparently perfectly okay with Fuma joking about dumping him, but the last part ruffles his feathers. “I am not at my peak, jackass.”

 

 

.

 

 

            “It’s beautiful.” Kento’s eyes are larger than usual as they take in a mostly empty, spacious bedroom. Fuma thinks he can see literal sparkles in his eyes – not that that’s unusual.

            Fuma has to turn away before he gets swept up in Kento’s infectious enthusiasm. “I was hoping for something bigger.”

            Kento turns to him, jaw dropped. “How is this still not big enough? At this rate, you’ll need to move out of Tokyo to get the space you’re looking for.”

            “I told you, I want to stay in the next one for a while. It won’t be any good if nothing fits.”

            “Even if you go insane and buy a fifty-two-inch TV or whatever, you could mount it to the wall!” Kento nearly shouts at Fuma’s decidedly unsatisfied grimace. “The neighborhood’s nice, you’re close to the subway, there’s a separation in the bath. It’s got everything on your checklist. And honestly, this living room might be twice the size of your current one. What the hell would you want to fit in here that you think you can’t? Are you getting a pet elephant?”

            “A grand piano, for instance.”

            “Oh don’t give me that bullshit, you’re not going to buy one anytime soon.”

            “I might win one in a raffle someday, and then what? I’d have to move again just so I can house it.” Before Kento can argue, Fuma says he wants to buy a new couch, too. “A big sofa bed, in case my brother or sister or both of them want to sleep over. It should be a queen-sized one, at least.”

            Kento softens, as he reliably does whenever Fuma brings up his siblings. “They’d love that. You can finally get rid of those old futons. Not to mention, that’s where you’ll sleep if we get into a fight.” He walks over to the middle of the living room area and traces a rectangle in the air with one outstretched finger. “Right here.”

            “Look at you banishing me out of my hypothetical bedroom.”

            “I can’t be the one that’s kicked out of bed,” Kento reasons. “You know I have those nights when I can’t fall asleep right away when I stay over at your place.”

            Fuma hums innocently. “You never have trouble sleeping right after we f—”

            “—make love, yes.” Kento glares at him for his word choice.

            Fuma snorts in amusement but indulgently repeats Kento’s preferred term.

            “I won’t make you sleep on the couch. I’d just end up joining you anyway, I’d get too lonely.”

            “Queen size it is.”

            “If you look at it, you’d have no problem fitting a queen size in this space.” Kento takes Fuma’s arm and drags him to the corner of the room for a wider vantage point. “See, your TV and consoles go there. You can get a smaller dining table that could fit maybe four people.”

            “Good idea, then we have an excuse to exclude Marius when we invite the rest of the group over.”

            “If you get a nice couch with a small coffee table, Marius could sit there, or your brother and sister when your family visits.”

            “Alright, slow down. You’re planning way too far ahead. I’m telling you, there are plenty of other listings and open houses out there.”

            “They’d be a waste of time,” Kento insists. “Why are you even arguing with me, you hate open houses. There’s no real reason not to sign the lease for this place right here and now. Look, look, if you want to keep your weird floor lamp, you can put it in the bedroom since this one has the space for it.” He leads Fuma back into the bedroom to show him exactly where he thinks the lamp should go (other than a landfill).

            “I’d have to shell out for new curtains, then. I don’t think so.”

            “You should be buying new curtains regardless?”

            As they continue to hypothetically decorate his apartment, Fuma tries to shoo away the unproductive thought that Kento is his favorite fixture in any given room, anyway.

 

 

.

 

 

            When Fuma does find an apartment that meets his requirements, it has an entire twenty square meters on the one Kento had gotten prematurely attached to. Kento interprets it as a personal slight, and Fuma earns his forgiveness by inviting him to a home dinner he’d initially planned solely for his family.

            Fuma’s parents were hardly ever over at his place – he reasons that they have a nicer kitchen, so he’s the one to visit them more often than not. His mom jokes that her son is finally divulging his home address to her only now that he’s about to change it.

            On the day of the dinner, Kento and Fuma find themselves unwrapping the food they had delivered as Fuma’s brother and sister raid the boxes marked “trash” and “donate” for pilferable treasure. Fuma’s parents are in the kitchen, despite strict instructions not to step foot in it, both of them intent on feeding their son and his “equally malnourished” boyfriend.

            “You don’t even have a can opener?” tuts Fuma’s dad. He turns to his wife and says, “Add that to the growing list of housewarming presents.”

            Fuma frowns. “I have one. I’ve packed most of the kitchen tools away, I told you.”

            Kento openly snickers at him as his mom tells him not to take that kind of tone with his father.

            “If he stops making dumb jokes, that’d be a lot easier,” Fuma mutters under his breath, which of course his mom picks up with her supernatural maternal hearing.

            “You know you’re going to be exactly like your dad when the time comes,” Kento tells him.

            Fuma makes a face at him. “I don’t want to hear that from you. It’s creepy if you’re holding out for that.”

            “You should be flattered, son,” Fuma’s dad says. “I’m quite the catch. Ask your mom.”

            “I do believe you both just got paid a compliment,” she says. “Kento told me that Fuma will make a great father. Isn’t that right, Kento?”

            Frozen in spot, Kento’s neck snaps to Fuma’s mom with panicked eyes. She seems clueless to his turmoil, beaming at him with knowing pride.

            Fuma doesn’t note this exchange and very neutrally says, “We’re way too young for that kind of talk.”

            As Kento tries to revive his frazzled brain cells, Fuma’s little brother thankfully provides a diversion by unearthing a battered-looking comic, which his sister then immediately claims for her own. All talk of parental inclinations is momentarily suspended as it takes the full force of Fuma, his parents, and Kento to mediate a negotiation that is acceptable to both parties.

            Kento never fully gets rid of the insecurity that crept up the back of his mind after Fuma’s mom unknowingly betrayed his trust. He of course does not begrudge her for announcing such a thing in public, when he’d never told her that his opinion on Fuma’s fatherhood potential was a secret to be closely guarded. But it does make him cautious in approaching Fuma once his family heads back home and leaves them to themselves.

            It turns out that his concern is all for nothing, as Fuma later shrugs off his carefully-worded pre-apology. “It’s not the first time you’ve said it.”

            Kento blinks. “It’s not?”

            “You’ve said it in interviews, too.”

            Kento can’t remember divulging such a thought to the media. If he had, he’s sure they weren’t together yet at the time. Kento tries to take Fuma’s assurances at face-value, but the lingering insecurity nags at him. “You’re not bothered by it at all?”

            “Just because my parents are one step away from asking for grandkids and our adoptive kids are pressuring us to either shack up or break up?” Fuma laughs weakly. “Maybe a little bit,” he admits. “But not because of anything you said. I can’t even blame Matsushima or Marius, as easy as that would be.”

            “I vote we blame them, and Shori too. We had the book closed on this, and there they go resurrecting the topic all because they saw us washing dishes together.”

            “Seriously, I’m insulted their reaction isn’t that strong when they see us doing our synchro dances,” Fuma jokes. “Imagine what they’d do if they ever caught us in the backroom.”

            “I’m pretty sure something close to that has already traumatized Shori. Remember that time he went into the green room and started spraying everything with disinfectant?”

            “Mm. That’s probably a more reasonable reaction than dictating which stage of our relationship we should be in.”

            “Slightly more reasonable.”

            In truth, they’ve already had multiple discussions of moving in together. They have also summarily dismissed the idea minutes after it’s brought up.

            As much as they love each other – not to mention like each other – constant togetherness sounded ill-advised. The thought of relinquishing time alone, for good, is unnerving. And from a practical standpoint, it didn’t make sense half the time, when overlapping schedules from individual and group projects have them stumbling into their respective homes at odd hours. Kento or Fuma might turn up at an apartment that didn’t belong to him on one of those days, but more often than not, the promise of uninterrupted sleep was what they needed after a particularly grueling itinerary.

            Fuma must be thinking the same thing, saying, “I’ve got my drama, you’ve got your movie… I could extend my lease for six months, but that means I might lose the new apartment. I guess, if anything, I can move in first and you’d follow when the movie wraps up.”

            “Funny, that sounds a lot like we’d be moving into the apartment you chose rather than finding one together.” Kento shakes his head. “Wait, what’s happening? Are we seriously considering this right now?”

            “We did find my new one together, for the record.” The emphasis on “ _my_ new one _”_ is very much deliberate, and it stings Kento a bit, despite his earlier preemptive protests. “Anyway, I was just thinking out loud. I didn’t think you were opposed to it.”

            “Right, there’s no way I’d be opposed to it, but… closer to our 30’s, we said.”

            “Right.”

            “We’re agreed, that’s still some time from now.” Kento sounds equal parts relieved and frustrated.

            “Why are you looking so glum, you suggested it in the first place!”

            Kento looks at Fuma, who’s noticeably pouting. “What if they’re right? What if they’re right and we’ll never be ready to take that step?”

            “Then you’d have to have the guts to break up with me, which I know you won’t.”

            Kento feels his argumentative side get provoked into waking. “You’re confident.”

            “I am.” The soft way Fuma affirms his stance and the unmistakable trust in his eyes soothes the little voice in Kento that had been briefly encouraging him to pick a fight for no reason.

            Kento relents and takes Fuma’s hand in his. “Then, I will be, too.”

 

 

.

 

 

            As famously lauded as his decision-making skills are, Fuma has second thoughts just like any other human being, and it’s only natural to have them when the stakes are so high.

            While he’s 99.99% sure that there’s nothing to worry about, there’s that unbearably loud .01% of his brain being paranoid that Kento is testing him and that his next move (or absence of one) will determine the longevity of their relationship.

            Fuma is determined not to give in to that panicky, miniscule section of his mind, but he does go back to the drawing board to come up with a Plan C. He figures it couldn’t hurt to bust out an alternative plan and cover his bases.

            He briefly thinks about appealing to Kento’s romantic side and getting him a bouquet of cunning no-occasion-just-wanted-you-to-have-them flowers, which would guarantee a spot in his good graces for a minimum of a week. But then he remembers the last time he’d tried to discreetly bring flowers into work, and he was swarmed with well-meaning onlookers who found it far too easy to jump to the worst conclusions. (He remembers them all with vengeful detail, from Sou’s “Oh no, Fuma-kun. What did you do?” to Kotaki’s hysterical “How could you! _We were all rooting for you!_ ”)

            In the end, he goes with something a lot less blatantly fawning and brownnosing, and something better suited to serve his purpose.

            He gives Kento a literal test. A quiz, to be precise.

            Fuma presents him with a choice of about ten couches, and suggests that they separately choose one from the set. He explains that the exercise would help clarify where they stand on moving in together one day: if they’re close to an inevitability, if they’re lightyears away from it, or if they’re somewhere in between.

            Kento is understandably befuddled by the elaborate set-up of Fuma’s otherwise simple plan. “Why don’t we just go furniture shopping together instead of making a mini-game show out of it?”

            “If we buy a couch together, you’ll definitely think you’re entitled to make me sleep on it whenever you feel like it.”

            “I was kidding!”

            Kento lets him know how weird his idea is, and then turns around to seriously consider the options placed in front of him. All the pieces are attractive in their own right – Fuma doesn’t want to give his true intentions away all willy-nilly.

            “So you and I both write down our choices at the same time, and then?” Kento asks.

            “And then I buy whichever one I want to buy,” Fuma responds.

            “…I really don’t see the point of this.”

            “You’re the one who’s worried about where we’re heading,” Fuma reminds him. “If we can survive each other’s furniture choices, won’t that reassure you?”

            “I doubt it. But then you’re wrong about me being worried about us.” Kento flashes him a smug grin. “There’s no room for fear when you’re filled to the brim with love.”

            Luckily, Fuma knows exactly what to say to get rid of that look. “Yeah, I noticed you’ve gotten really good at not choking on it.”

            Kento calls him disgusting and proceeds to just about die of laughter. Fuma points out that he’s in good company, noting that Kento was the one who chose such a lewd phrase to make his point in the first place.

            When they settle down, Kento’s face turns serious again as he puts pen to paper. There’s a moment of tense silence when they trade pieces of paper facedown, and they unveil each other’s answers.

            “That’s not right!” Kento bursts out after flipping the paper he’d received. “There’s no way you’d choose that one!” He slides it back to Fuma like he’s rejecting its contents. The paper declares that Fuma’s choice is the couch that has a finished wooden frame and a thick diagonal slab on one side, where six throw pillows are propped up against.

            Fuma is more than ready to accuse Kento of the same thing. In his hand is a piece of paper where Kento wrote his alleged preference for the couch with smooth lines, low and nearly invisible arm rests, and slim metal legs. Though perhaps more than that, he is impressed by the way that they landed on the exact same wavelength, which still surprises him from time to time.

            He almost wants to blow his cover altogether and ask what Kento’s _real_ answer is, to be sure that he’d been equally accurate in picking out the couch with the wooden frame.

 

 

.

 

 

            Fuma stares blankly at the key in his hand as Kento talks non-stop about how he’d negotiated its release for about two whole hours the other day. “The only stipulation is that you still have to call in advance so I can log you in. Or, if you don’t want to give me a heads-up, you just have to sign in as a guest at the reception. Unless you want me to get evicted.”

            “So, nothing changes all that much.”

            “Well, now you can enter my apartment without waiting for me to let you in,” Kento tries. “Otherwise, yeah. Not a lot changes.”

            “Cool.” Fuma pockets the key carelessly, like he isn’t going to stare longingly at it in the privacy of his bedroom. “Thank you for your mostly symbolic gesture.”

            Kento lets out the frustrated sigh. “Somehow this doesn’t feel significant.”

            “That might be because you’ve had a key to my place for about a year now,” Fuma says lightly. “And you’ll have another one when I move, too, obviously. Not to mention, the only thing stopping you from giving me a copy of your key was your building’s weird hardline rules.”

            “I feel like we’re supposed to be crossing some sort of milestone to show we’re making progress at this point.”

            “Show who?” Fuma asks. “Look, I’m not putting you on the lease or anything dumb like that. It’s not like you’re helping me pay my rent.”

            “I’m not asking you to do that.” Regardless, Kento fails to hide the hurt in his voice.

            “You failed the couch test, remember? I ended up buying the one you didn’t choose.”

            Kento gasps. “No you didn’t!”

            Fuma pulls up his phone to show him an emailed receipt with a picture of the couch on the wooden platform splashed all over it.

            Kento makes an ungodly noise like something’s trying to break out of the back of his throat and plants a kiss on Fuma’s cheek. “You did! You know what, I’m not mad. You have exquisite taste.”

            “That’s true,” Fuma says, staring meaningfully at him.

            Kento catches on. “But mine’s better.”

            “We’re not doing that.”

            Deprived of a mushy back-and-forth, Kento frowns, all but demanding that Fuma make it up to him for not playing along. “You’re going to leave me hanging?”

            Fuma holds his ground. “And don’t think for a second that I’m sleeping on that hideous couch, either.”

            Kento laughs. “I guess maybe it’s too early to give up sleepovers just yet,” he muses. “But, I was thinking, I could really give it all up, one day. Sooner rather than later, honestly. I’d give up having my own space, the furniture, maybe even the coasters, if it meant—”

            “Do that and I’ll kick you to the curb,” Fuma threatens.

            “Really?” Kento is sure he’s never heard anything sweeter in all his life.

            “I won’t have you depriving us of all that make-up sex.”

            “You are such a moron.” Kento laughs again, aware that Fuma’s covering up his own good-naturedness. “Some things I’m willing to negotiate on, but you’re dreaming if you think I’m letting every single one of your bad habits go.”

            “See, this is why I know you can’t break up with me.” Fuma grins. “Who else would let you turn your domestic bossiness into foreplay?”

            For now, they set aside the thought of significant changes in their lives and when exactly they might take place. There’s always more than one way to keep each other close.


End file.
